Almost a Runaway Bride

He was super-romantic (and the only thing that taught me was too much romance is WAY too much).  Jewelry, flowers sent to work for the specific purpose of bragging rights, dinners at expensive (well expensive in my world) restaurants.  For the first 6 months we dated, he pulled out all the stops, really brought on the full-court press.  He genuinely “courted” me in every sense of the word.  

After about a year of dating (and a major surgery on my part), he proposed, and of course, in a big way.  He took me to his favorite restaurant (which he called “our favorite”), and there were even fireworks after.  It was Memorial Day weekend, so he lucked out on the fireworks.  He had met with the owner, the small band that played that night, and clued them in on his intentions.  Really over-the-top, movie-worthy stuff.

And I bought into it, hook, line and-sinker.  I had never been treated so well, and I genuinely thought when a man loves you, this is how you should be treated. I dismissed the red flags, and boy there were plenty of them. The flowers he sent to work?  They were always stargazer lilies – and stargazers give me an instant migraine.  He continued to send those, even after I told him they gave me a headache.  My favorite flowers are gerbera daisies, a fact he was well aware of. 

The jewelry he bought me? Jewelry that he wanted to buy me, not jewelry that I would particularly like.  And I am not trying to sound ungrateful – I do not wear pearls.  Ever.  When I was in the hospital, recovering from a hysterectomy, he presented me with a necklace, bracelet and earrings, all with pearls.  Everything he ever gave me were things that he liked, not me.  He was trying to persuade me that he was right and I was wrong.  

But I went with it.  I started making wedding plans and I was swept up in the planning, missing the red flags again.  My best friend, a fashion design graduate, designed and made my dress for me.  She was my matron-of-honor, and two of my closest friends were bridesmaids. My daughter was a junior bridesmaid.  

15 minutes prior to the commencement of the ceremony, we were taken to a remote location of the church, so we could see each other in our finery for the first time.  Honestly, he did look handsome.  And I had long looked forward to his reaction.  My all-time favorite part of weddings is when the bride is at the end of the aisle.  As she starts to come down the aisle, I always look at the groom’s reaction, and I have never been disappointed.  Their faces light up and tears form in their eyes, breathless at how beautiful their bride is.

Not my groom however.  He had the fakest smirk on his face, and not one time did he say “You look beautiful”.  Not an “Oh, my God, you’re gorgeous”.  No, just this fake smirk that said it all.  It said “I can’t believe that you’re wearing that.  I should have picked out your dress.”  It said that I didn’t look like he expected, I didn’t make the right choice, that I was wrong.  It said I should have left the decision-making up to him.  And for that 5 minute block of time, before the photographer started taking our pictures, my mind screamed “Run!  Run now! Don’t do this!”

I should have listened to that loud voice.  I should have listened to what my heart and my brain were trying to tell me – he was all wrong for me.   I should have grabbed up the train of my dress and hi-tailed it out of there, warp speed.  

We divorced two and a half years later.  Two and a half years that I truly regret.  He was controlling and demanding.  I was told how to think, how to “behave”, how to act and how to mold myself into what he wanted.  When he lost his job and was unemployed for 9 months, he still expected me to clean, cook, grocery shop, do laundry – even after working 40 hours a week, while he was at home.  I busted my butt every day, for little to no thanks.  He never pitched in, not even after I begged him to.  He wanted June Cleaver and I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t.  

After our divorce, a friend’s husband looked at me and asked me how it was at all possible for us to have even dated, let alone married.  His quote was “You’re so cool and funny, and he’s such an a**”.   And he’s right.   The biggest lesson I learned?  Listen to your inner voice.  It’s trying to tell you something. 

Written by: Allyson Johns